


A Cup of Tea to Warm the Soul

by TheQuietAwakening



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 12:30:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21507988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQuietAwakening/pseuds/TheQuietAwakening
Summary: The Wizarding World had turned on Pansy after the war, destroyed her reputation. Now, she was terrified that if anyone knew about her new relationship, they would destroy him as well.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	A Cup of Tea to Warm the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for Round 8 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.
> 
> Chaser 1 prompt: Strength – Upright: Inner Strength, Bravery, Compassion, Focus, Reversed: Self-doubt, Weakness, Insecurity → I chose to write the reverse side of the card.
> 
> Optional prompts: (song) Let Me Down Slowly – Alec Benjamin, (season) Winter, and (object) flask

Music blared through the underground cavern. People danced and shouted and laughed, the dim light and silencing spells hiding all their secrets. This was supposed to be the place where they could be free from prying eyes and media scandals, free to be themselves, be accepted when they were rejected by the outside world. After the war, it didn't matter where their loyalties lay; if they were a part of Slytherin house, they were automatically deemed to be the enemy. This was supposed to be their place to let go.

Sitting on a ledge at the very edge of the scene, knees pulled up to her chest and a flask in her fist, Pansy had never felt more alone. The music was no more than an annoying boom of melody as she stared at the relaxed and unrestrained figures with envy. They could be happy here, free here, but this was not Pansy's hiding place. No, hers was much more complicated.

His face flashed through her mind; his kind smile, his gentle touch, his bloody innocent soul, and guilt swelled within her. This wasn't fair to him, and Pansy knew it. She shuddered to think of what would happen if anyone were to find out about her unlikely companion. Pansy would be made an outcast, both to society and to her so-called "friends". And if the Daily Prophet or any of the gossip tabloids got a hold of this information, his reputation would be absolutely destroyed.

Neville Longbottom.

It was hilarious to think that she would have ever given him the time of day. But she had, and now, that decision was causing all sorts of problems.

Pansy took a swig from her flask, relishing in the heat of the firewhiskey as it burned its way down her throat. Everything had been much more simple back in school, when she could practically do anything she wanted without a second thought.

"What's wrong with you tonight?" It was Draco, the one person she could genuinely consider a friend. He plunked himself down on the ledge beside her, waving his wand to cast a silencing spell around them so they could hear each other over the loud music.

"I'm fine," Pansy mumbled, taking another drink of her firewhiskey. He held out his hand, and she passed him the flask.

"Something's on your mind," he pried, taking a swig and handing it back.

"It's nothing," she insisted.

"This is you we're talking about." Draco rolled his eyes. "It's never nothing."

Pansy knew she couldn't tell him about Neville. He could never understand. But still, she ached to speak about it, to shout and rant about her unpleasant predicament. They had both been changed by the war, forever altered by the horror of what they saw—Draco even more so than her, considering how close he was to it all. If anyone would listen to her ridiculous situation, it would be him.

He stared at her with those piercing silver eyes; they always made her feel like he could see straight through her.

Pansy cleared her throat and focused her gaze on the metallic finish of the flask in her hand. "There's this guy-"

"Of course, it's a guy. What else would it be?" Draco interrupted sarcastically.

Pansy slapped his arm lightly. "I'm being serious!"

"Fine," he said, holding his hands up in a defensive posture. "So, what's wrong with him?"

She chuckled ruefully. "Absolutely nothing. And there's my problem."

Draco raised a brow skeptically. "Obviously."

Pansy sighed. "I've been complete rubbish to him."

"Aren't you always?"

She glared at him and took another drink.

"He's not…" she struggled to find the right words. "He's not like us."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Draco asked with mock offense.

"He's soft, kind, and… good," Pansy tried to explain.

"So, definitely not like us," he replied with a cheeky grin. She rolled her eyes. "I guess you want to ditch him for someone a bit more exciting and are looking for a way to avoid crushing his fragile little heart? It's not like you to care about the feelings of a man you're with."

"It's not like that," she started. Was this an unusual problem for her? Yes, very much so. That just made it all the more gut-wrenching.

"Wait, you actually like this guy," Draco deduced, eyes widening in fake shock. "Since when has Pansy Parkinson ever _liked_ a guy?"

It hadn't been since her school days when she had thought she'd wanted the blond in front of her for herself. She'd gone through a lot of effort to make him notice her, to make him jealous. Pansy had been so silly back then. Oh, how things had changed.

"I don't know how it happened," she replied honestly.

"So, what's the problem exactly?" Draco asked.

"He's good, pure, and I'm…

"Messed up?" he offered.

Pansy just took another swig of firewhiskey in response. She had never formally been a part of the Dark Lord's followers, but the wizarding world still despised her. Though she liked to be loved, she was fine with a few glares, a bit of hate. But they had stolen her family's fortune, dragged her name through the mud. They called her a sadistic, cold-hearted bitch, and they weren't too far off considering how she had acted at Hogwarts. But not now. Not after she had heard the screams of painful deaths, seen the bodies of her peers strewn across the rubble of her school, the grins on the faces of the Death Eaters as another student, a child, fell. Pansy still had nightmares, saw the blank stares in her mind when she closed her eyes. That wasn't what she had wanted when she had taunted their house rivals.

She was a coward; she had been then, and still was today. When the world became too much to bear, running away seemed like the easiest choice. It was what she had desperately tried to do during that final battle. She would have handed Potter over to be killed in a heartbeat rather than face whatever terrors were coming for them if they didn't. Pansy hadn't wanted any part in that fight, she'd only wanted to escape with the other Slytherin students but somehow, she had found herself in the middle of it all. Everyone had aligned with the side of their parents, and she had simply followed, knowing her fate was far more precarious if she didn't comply.

That cowardice was still controlling her life, the desire to run away always winning out in the end. She listened to his steady breathing beside her, felt the warmth grow in her own soul, and let the fear creep into the room, wrapping her once again in darkness. And she ran. She ran from the man who accepted her despite what the world said, to an underground club where that darkness found its home, where it thrived, where it wasn't threatened with extinction.

"I get it," Draco said, suddenly very serious.

"Get what?"

"Love is bloody terrifying," he continued.

"Who said anything about love?" Pansy retorted, wrinkling her nose in disgust. Love wasn't something she knew she was capable of.

"I've never seen you like this, Pans. You're someone who is known for your indiscretions, and never giving any of them a backward glance."

"I don't think that's the case," she insisted. "It can't ever work. It would cause more trouble for us both."

"Fine. Go on then, keep sabotaging yourself," Draco accused.

"What exactly are you saying?" Pansy asked defensively.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Pans. You know what you do. You give the press everything they need to make a story, all they need to slam you. You isolate yourself, push everyone away. If you don't want to be happy, then fine. Just stop sulking to me every time something in your life goes to Hell."

"You came over to talk to me, remember?" How dare he turn this back onto her!

"Yeah, because I'm a decent friend!"

Pansy huffed. "You don't know anything!" He wouldn't be saying any of this if he knew who she was talking about. No, it had been a bad idea to talk to him about this.

"I don't have to know much to see that you're smitten with whoever this is, and the way you're describing him, he seems like he might be good for you right now." He paused. "Maybe a bit boring, but I think you might need boring. You can either stop sabotaging yourself and admit that for the first time in your life you might actually care about someone or shut up about it."

Pansy swallowed the lump that had grown in her throat. There was no denying that she cared about the man, but Neville deserved so much more than what she was able to give. Would it be better for him if she just let him go?

* * *

Neville stared up at the ceiling. He had heard Pansy leave, traced her footsteps in his mind's eye as she collected her few belongings and made her escape. It wasn't as though this was a new occurrence for her. There always came a point when she would disappear, sometimes it was even while she was still in his embrace. It was a change in her eyes, a switch that flipped, a realization that made her slip back under her protective mask.

Glancing at the time, Neville groaned. It was three in the morning and sleep was nowhere near taking hold of him. He didn't know where she went exactly when she left his place in the middle of the night, and he had to admit that he worried about her, wandering alone in the dark. It wasn't safe for her on the streets at night.

He had known it had gotten quite bad for people like her, but that day in the coffee shop, when she had been taunted and spat upon for simply wanting a warm beverage, he finally saw how far the tables had turned. No one deserved to be made a target in broad daylight. He hated that the world simply sat and watched, never intervening, saying it was alright to punish them for their beliefs when the wizard courts wouldn't. Standing up for her had been one of the best decisions he had ever made, but maybe she didn't see it that way.

Neville sighed and pushed himself up from the bed, letting the covers slide away. He grabbed his wand off the night table and shivered as he crossed the room, snatching his winter robes from the hook by the bathroom door. The wooden floor felt like ice beneath his toes as he padded into the kitchen. Winter wasn't all bad, but a cold floor was something Neville hated, and it seemed to evade even the strongest heating spell.

Moving to the cupboard, he pulled down his tea canister and a large mug. A cup of calming tea was just what he needed. With a flick of his wand, he filled the mug with water, heated it to the perfect temperature, and dropped in the leaves to brew.

Taking a seat on one of the hard stools at the counter, Neville took a small sip of the steaming liquid, embracing its heat. The harsh winter's rain was beating down against the roof, a sound that would have been soothing had he known for certain that Pansy wasn't out in it.

He was hoping the tea would calm him enough to get some sleep, but as he drank, the thoughts of her only seemed to grow stronger. She wasn't the same person she used to be when they were in school together, but it was almost as if she thought she was or that she should be. There were times when she would look at him with longing eyes, when she would cling to him like she needed him to breathe. But then, she would push him away, become tense, cold.

Neville hated the flip-flopping, hated being unable to read her. He hated how distant she was with him when all he wanted was to know her. He couldn't stand the thought that she was using him, playing games with his heart. But most of all, he hated how much he cared, how much he wanted her to stay, to open up to him, to be real.

Every time she left in the middle of the night, it did something to him. It hurt him, scared him, and brought with it a dread that she might never come back. He wasn't a weak man - the war had brought out a fight in him that he didn't know he had - but she had power over him. She held his heart in her hands and squeezed it between her fingertips every time she disappeared. Neville hoped he was right about the change in her. If she was the same cold-hearted, compassionless girl from school, well she might just have the power to shatter him completely.

Neville cupped his hands around the mug, feeling the warmth seep into his bones. If she was finished with him, he could only hope that she would let him down slowly, carefully, because he'd given her far too much of himself.

_Bang bang bang._

The smashing of a fist against his front door startled him out of his thoughts. When Pansy ran away like this, Neville typically didn't hear from her until the next day at least. But then again, he couldn't think of who else would be knocking on his door in the middle of the night.

Abandoning his half-finished tea on the counter, Neville made his way to the door, slowly pulling it open. Pansy stood before him drenched and shivering, the icy rain pouring down around her.

"Why don't you come inside," Neville offered, speaking loudly over the pounding storm.

But she simply shook her head, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him out into the freezing rain with her, the cold, wet ground sending a wave of shock through his bare feet. Something wasn't right. She wore an expression of pain, of despair, and for whatever reason, she was refusing to step foot inside his home, even to get out of the terrible weather.

"Pansy, what's wrong?" he asked.

"You have to understand!" she began in a loud voice. "I'm not good!"

"What are you talking about?" His feet were numb from the cold, his robes becoming soaked, the icy material clinging to his skin, but Neville didn't care.

"I'm not good for you, I'm not good for me, I'm not good for anyone!" she nearly shouted. "I am a coward! I am hated by everyone! Why don't you hate me?" Neville could hear the strain of emotion in her voice.

He grabbed her cold hand, holding it tightly. "Because your past doesn't define you," he told her firmly. "I think you're stronger than you know."

Pansy yanked her hand out of his grasp and pushed him against the side of the building.

"I care about you too much! Don't you see? You're thinking too highly of me! I can't let you throw everything away!" she shouted at him.

Neville could smell the alcohol on her breath. Wherever she'd gone, she had been drinking.

"I'm not throwing anything away," he said in a softer voice. "They hate you because they don't know you, they don't know who you've become, only who you've been. There's a new beginning here." His heart broke for her. People were constantly telling her that she deserved her fate of ostracization, that she wasn't a good enough person to be a part of society, and she had started to believe it.

"But my new beginning is your end," she choked out. "It's not right, it's not right."

Neville pulled her into a tight embrace, her wet hair coming to rest against his cheek as she sobbed into his shoulder. Her reputation had been utterly destroyed after the war, and it occurred to him that she thought by being with him, she was going to cause his downfall.

"People might talk, sure. They always will. But they can't ruin me," he assured her. Only she had the power to do that, and it had nothing to do with his reputation.

Neville held her as she continued to cry, stroking her wet hair and telling her over and over again, that things were going to be alright. It was going to get better. She deserved to have a chance at change, a chance to be happy, a chance to live as a normal witch, and as the rain pounded down around them, Neville vowed that he would make sure she got that opportunity.

He felt it the moment her body tensed, her crying suddenly stopped, and he desperately hoped she wasn't about to disappear behind all her barriers again and push him away.

But she looked up at him with those glistening eyes, a gaze of longing, desire, hope.

"I think," she began softly. "I think I'm in love with you."

Neville's heart soared, spreading warmth through his body, almost seeming to thaw his frozen limbs. He had fallen in love with her long before now, but he knew this wasn't the end of the conversation. She had been drinking, and he couldn't be sure if her words were from the heart or the alcohol.

Gently, he kissed the top of her forehead. "Why don't we go inside, dry off, have a cup of tea."

She nodded and sniffled. "Yeah, okay."

As they passed the threshold and the warmth from the heating spell hit their frozen faces, Neville couldn't help but think that maybe this was a turning point for them. Maybe she would finally let him past her cold barriers. Perhaps they could finally put the war's rain behind them.


End file.
